


A Long December

by ninashtia



Series: Cunning and Ambition [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninashtia/pseuds/ninashtia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Elizabeth Montieth can't understand why Oliver Wood would be sending her a Christmas present. It's not like they were friends, after all. One-Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long December

“ _A man who is used to acting in one way never changes; he must come to ruin when the times, in changing, no longer are in harmony with his ways_.” -Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince

**Would you do me the honour to dance, fair lady?**

 

_December, 1983_

* * *

 

It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen; it was also highly inconvenient.

A frown formed up in my face as I stared at the object in my hand. I was torn between delight and severe frustration. But mostly, I just was confused. Why would _he_ give me a Christmas present – least of all a _beautiful_ present?  
It made no sense.

I chewed on my lower lip as I thought. A mess of open presents, unopened ones, and a lot of gift wrapping paper surrounded me. Pale winter light illuminated my room, the gray-blue curtains giving it an eerie quality. The silence in the house was its usual suffocating self. And like most Christmas, I was opening my presents alone.

I stared at the snow globe in my tiny hand intently, silently ordering it to tell me why on Earth he decided to gift it to me. I grabbed it in both hands, for it was large enough to warrant both hands, and shook it. Fake snow began falling on two small children who were playing around a Christmas tree. For a second, I became entranced with the falling snow as it twirled around the ceramic figures.

Leave it up to Woody to be frustrating.

“Elizabeth!” came the yell just before the door to my room burst open; I jumped in fright and the snow globe fell from my hands onto the bed and then on the floor, where it rolled towards the open door. I squealed as I threw myself down trying to chase the rolling globe. I snatched it away from sight, and although I knew my attempts were pathetic at best, I tried to hide it by sitting on it.

“Merry Christmas, Armand, William,” I nodded to my two older brothers who snorted. Armand messed up my hair on his way to my bed while William simply stared at me.

“Good presents this year, Elizabeth?”

I could feel my cheeks becoming hotter. “Average, as usual,” I replied as coolly as I could.

William’s face shook, a small smile adorning his otherwise straight features. I struck my tongue out at him, while pushing the snow globe underneath the bed. Armand’s hands found their way around my armpits and began tickling me. I tried scratching the life out of his arms, but failed. I jumped to my feet and on top of my brother, to give as good as I was getting.

William’s voice brought me back to reality. “This is a nice snow globe, Elizabeth; who gave it to you?”

Bloody hell.

I froze; Armand continued to tickle my belly and I didn’t even notice (ok, almost didn’t notice). “N-no one,” I muttered, finally landing a good blow on the idiot’s arm. Armand complained and begun rubbing his arm. “Must have gotten here by mistake,” I said, turning my full attention to the eldest one of my brothers.

William raised a dark eyebrow. “It is from Oliver Patrick Wood,” Armand said from behind me. For the second time in minutes, I threw myself against him and tried to pry the stupid letter from his hand, but he had longer arms than me. Before I could reach it, William grabbed it. I bit my lip in fear, my elbow still strategically placed on Armand’s face as William’s green eyes scanned the piece of parchment. I held my breath.

“You should tell him he needs to practice his handwriting; that was a pain to read,” he said throwing the parchment back to me.  I snapped it in midair and held it away from Armand’s reach.

I stared at William, “You are not mad?”

He shrugged, “Why should I? We are forced to spend all summer vacations with his family, it makes sense you two would become friends.”

“So long as it is _only_ friendship…”  
“Ew!” I threw a nearby box straight to Armand’s head; he caught it. “That’s disgusting!” I screeched, “I don’t want anything to do with him. _He_ thinks we are friends but I can’t sodding stand him!” I said, turning to glare at William.

“Vocabulary, Elizabeth,” a voice that dragged the words said. “You wouldn’t want father hearing you talk like that, would you?”

I glared at my third brother, Nicholas, who was leaning casually against the wall. “Nicholas is right, Elizabeth; watch your mouth, it isn’t proper,” William said with an air of finality. He was fourteen and as the oldest, he was the only one who could control us – albeit only so much. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out to Nicholas. “Now, I suggest we all go get some breakfast; father will be expecting us down soon,” with one last warning look in my general direction, William walked out of my room grabbing Nicholas by the shoulder and wheeling him out.

I turned to look at Armand. His short, black hair was a tangled mess and his blue eyes, so similar to mine, had a mischievous glint. “I suggest you put that snow globe somewhere were father can’t see it, Lisa; _he_ won’t like it.”

* * *

 

“Did you like my present? Mum helped me pick it up, from some muggle shop down by the-” I snapped both of my hands over his mouth.

I glared at him, wishing I was a basilisk. “Will you stuff it up, already?” I said with a hiss, “Or do you want to publish it in the Daily Prophet for good measure?”

He shrugged and removed my hands from his face. “Why? Are you embarrassed?”

_Yes_ , I wanted to scream, but knew I couldn’t, so I shoved him hard on the shoulder and walked away, slowly gravitating towards the Yule ball. The Ministry of Magic enjoyed going overboard during these Yule parties; Aunt Adelaine said they became very popular since the fall of You-Know-Who, almost three years ago.

“They really outdid themselves this year,” Wood said coming to stand next to me. “I think that the live silver-painted pixies truly add a touch,” he pointed at a pair of badly painted pixies who were trying to remove each other’s wings. I had to control the urge to chortle.

“Whatever Wood.”

He shook his head, a sly smile forming. “How is your night going? Mine’s been dreadfully boring. And I told you not to call me Wood; I have a name you know.”  
“Unfortunately,” I muttered. “And I told you to call me Elizabeth.”

“I much prefer your first name, _Sarah_.”

I shivered at the mention of my mother’s name, which I had the misfortune of sharing. Giving him a death glare, I began walking away from him. He knew I hated to be called that. Sarah Elizabeth Montieth, my parents had the wonderful idea of naming me. But Sarah, Sarah was my mother – not me. I was Elizabeth.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist!” I heard his annoying Scottish drawl trailing behind me, “I was only making polite conversation.”  
“And I am only avoiding it,” I said chancing a wry look his way. “Why don’t you go bother Francis for a change?” Francis was my same-age cousin who was better chums with Wood. I swear both of them were going to get sorted into Gryffindor when we turned eleven.

“He’s fast asleep on some chairs over there; your Aunt covered him with a cloak,” I snorted, but couldn’t help smiling a little. I would have to make sure Francis never lives that down. We had reached the other end of the room, which was filled with adults dancing, adults schmoozing, and adults pretending not to be drunk and failing quite admirably. I found an empty chair and sat down, carefully arranging my pink dress around me. I scowled as I touched the material; father had picked the dress up.

He didn’t know I hated pink.

Wood grabbed a nearby chair and sat next to me. “How are things at home?” he asked in a small voice, reaching into his pockets and removing a mini-sized Quaffle. He began throwing it into the air and catching it again. I stared at the red ball go up, and down only to be caught again before answering.

“They won’t tell me anything,” I said, my eyes downcast and focused on my shoes, “Even Armand; he says I am too young but I doubt he knows either. I mean, he’s not _that_ much older – he just got into Hogwarts this year.”

Wood nodded, catching the ball again and putting it to the side. “Is she still at St. Mungo’s?”

I nodded and closed my eyes, letting my head rest against the back of the chair. “It’s been _years_ , she should be home.” I pursed my lips, biting the inside of my cheeks and trying very hard to not cry.

“Don’t cry, Sarah, I’m sure everything is going to be fine.”

I shot him an angry stare before closing my eyes again. I focused on listening to the music, to the rhythm of chatter around me and couple’s dancing. I began to drift into an uncomfortable sleep when someone poked me. Groaning, I opened an eye to see Oliver Wood standing above me, a wide smile on his strawberry lips, and his hand extended towards me. I arched a dark eyebrow questioningly.

“Would you do me the honor to dance, fair lady?” he bowed and moved his hand in a ridiculous attempt at gallantry. I looked at his hand, and then at his chocolate brown eyes and took a deep breath.

Father surely wouldn’t mind, I thought as I took the offered hand in mine; after all, he did allow Aunt Adelaine and us to vacation with the Wood’s yearly.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” I said as he guided me towards the center of the ballroom. Awkwardly, he put a hand on my waist and grabbed my other one in his hand. I sighed as I put my free hand on his shoulders. A few women nearby were looking at us, puppy looks on their faces. I felt my cheeks grow hot. We moved side to side in an artless fashion, both of us avoiding each other’s eyes (I avoided everybody’s eyes). When it became boring, Wood released my waist and grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder.

I looked at him quizzically, but he just grinned. Grabbing hold of both of my hands, he began to twirl me around him. I almost tripped on my dress, but he caught me just before. I threw him a nasty glare, and he just smirked and regained his hold on my hands. Without much warning, he began spinning in circles, making the whole world flutter and fade into a rainbow of colors before my eyes. It was so stupid, it was funny, and I began laughing only to notice that he was laughing too.

He stopped spinning and began twirling me around him again; I was laughing slightly as I snapped a sarcastic comment or two his way, which he returned.

That was when my father saw us, I suppose.

I felt a strong hand land on my shoulder, successfully stopping all the twirling and whirling. My heart rose to my throat, and my eyes widened like old china plates. “Elizabeth,” said my father’s stern voice. “Time to go home,” I looked up just in time to see him scowl. Without waiting a heartbeat, he pushed me by the shoulder, disentangling me from Wood who stood there with a confused look on his face.

“Antonious, really now,” I heard Aunt Adelaine, my father’s sister, say hurriedly as she began walking beside us. William, Armand, and Nicholas were there as well; all three of them had their travelling cloaks on. “Must you cause a scene?”  
“This does not concern you, Adelaine,” father said, motioning for William to help me put my cloak on. Knowing at an instinctual level that I was in trouble, I didn’t think of arguing that I was old enough to dress myself, and allowed William to throw the cloak around my shoulders. He put both of his arms on my shoulders and pulled me towards him. “William, take you sister home; Armand and Nicholas will follow you.”

William didn’t wait to be told twice. He grabbed a bunch of floo powder which the ministry had provided for the night’s transportation and threw it on the roaring fire. It immediately turned green. Pushing me first, William and I entered the marble fireplace. “Montieth manor,” he said; we immediately began swirling at neck break speed. I could feel William’s breath and his hands grabbing me tightly by the shoulders.

We collapsed onto the cold floor of our living room. William got to his feet before I could, and he raised me by the armpits. He was almost twelve then, and in the dim light of the room, he looked older. Armand and Nicholas appeared seconds later; Armand threw Nicholas off of him and began cleaning the soot from his cloak. Nicholas glared at him from the floor before getting up as well. “You have soot on your cheek, Lisa,” William mumbled as he handed his cloak over to the house elf, Mimmy. I dabbed my finger with saliva and cleaned the spot he had pointed at.

“Well, now you’ve done it,” Nicholas said, his green eyes glaring at me in disgust, “Why did you danced with Oliver Wood for? That boy is a filthy blood traitor.”  
“And you will watch your language, Nicholas,” William said frowning and motioning for us to follow him, “Come along all of you; time for bed.”

Armand groaned, but he followed without complain, holding my hand as we climbed up the stairs. The house was cold and silent, and I had always been a bit afraid of the dark.

Once alone in my room, Mimmy helped me undress and put on a clean pajama. I snuggled into the bed, as she turned out the candles, leaving me in complete darkness. I could hear the wind outside, and the creak of wood that signaled my father was standing just outside my door. Holding my breath, I waited for him to open the door. My face was buried underneath the blankets and I prayed he’d think I was asleep, and leave.

“I know you are awake, Elizabeth,” he said taking a seat on my bed, “There is no use pretending.” Swearing in my head, I lowered the blanket to look at him. Cold blue eyes identical to mine stared at me, the white of his eyes looking too bright in the dim light of the hallway. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t scowling or frowning either. “Nicholas told me Oliver Wood gave sent you a Christmas present, is that correct?”

I nodded.

“You will be starting Hogwarts soon, Elizabeth. You _must_ begin to make proper acquaintances now, and learn to distinguish between the different classes of people. Some are worth your friendship; others aren’t worth the sole of your shoe.”

He sighed and run a hand through his receding hair. “Elizabeth, come here,” I scooted over to his side; a cold hand came to rest on my shoulder. I tried not to shiver. “You are my only daughter,” he began in a slow, calm and collected voice. “And a pureblood witch at that. Oliver Wood comes from a tainted family; you should know that by now that purebloods _only_ mingle with purebloods.”

“Aunt Adelaine is friends with Mrs. Wood.”

“Yes, and I believe she is… misguided,” he stared at me for a moment, the ghost of a frown appeared on his forehead. “Just because you spend time with him and his family doesn’t mean you are to befriend him, is that understood?” I nodded. “I will have a talk with your aunt, and I will try to stop this, if only--” he sighed, turning his eyes away from me and into the darkness of my room. “It doesn’t matter. Do you understand, Elizabeth?”

“Yes father,” I said with my eyes downcast.

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Very good. Where have you kept his present? It is most inappropriate really,” I stood up from my bed and crouched low by the bedside table where I had hidden the snow globe. I could see the fake snow glittering in the dim light of my room, and I took a moment to stare at it before handing it over to my father. A part of me wished I could commit the texture and feel of it to memory.

“Good night, Elizabeth,” father said before tucking me into bed, and closing the door to my room, successfully submerging me into darkness.

* * *

 

The  floor creaked as I stepped on it lightly. I held my breath, waiting, listening for any sound, any indication that I had been heard. The house stood as silent as a grave. Releasing my breath, I continued tiptoeing around the hallway, reaching my destination at last. Careful now not to make any noise, I turned the cold door handle ever so slightly. I opened the door.

It creaked again.

Cursing wordlessly, I closed the door behind me with as much care as before. The room was dark except for the flicker of a dying candle. I walked towards the bed, feeling my way around with my hands, touching the silky material of the spreadsheets. When I reached the other side, I climbed up.

Warmth surrounded me, and the sleeping body now beside me stirred. “Lisa?”

Armand’s voice was groggy with sleep, blue eyes opened ever so slightly. I slipped underneath the blankets to lie next to him. “Armand?”

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare again?”

“No,” I whispered. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

Armand stifled a yawn as he propped himself on one elbow to look at me better. “What kept you up, little one?”

I tried to glare at him at the stupid nickname. I was only five years younger and would be going to Hogwarts in just three years! “Father found out about the snow globe; he said Nicholas told him.”  
My brother scowled. “That little snitch. Don’t worry, Lisa, I’ll try to find it back for you.”

I smiled and hugged him awkwardly; his head fell unto the blanket heavily. “Armand?”

“Mmmm?”

I bit my lip a few times before asking. “Are half-bloods and mudbloods really that bad?”

I expected Armand to scorn me for even asking that question, but instead he chuckled. “What do you think?”  
I looked at him, his pale eyes shimmering in the moonlight. I thought of my father, and how cold his hand felt on my shoulder like it didn’t belong there. Then my thoughts drifted to Wood and our sad little –but funny- attempt at dancing, and how light-hearted I had felt; how good it was to laugh like no one was watching. Was blood better than actions, in the end? “I don’t know yet; but I don’t think so.”

“Then, dear Lizzie, make up your mind as you go,” he smiled at me before putting his arm around me, “Now go to sleep, it’s three in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is the prologue of a much longer, multi-chapter story. The story is called 'Cunning' and takes place during Prisoner of Azkaban/ Oliver's 7th year.


End file.
